


Yours For the Asking

by Zinnith



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mission Gone Wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-15
Updated: 2010-05-15
Packaged: 2017-10-09 11:07:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/86593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zinnith/pseuds/Zinnith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim should have paid more attention during his first aid classes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours For the Asking

**Author's Note:**

> My extremely late entry for the Kirk/McCoy challenge. I picked the prompt: _01\. McCoy gets hurt on-planet and Kirk has to follow his instructions to save him._ Pretty much just self-indulgent h/c with a little angst on the side. Many thanks to sgamadison for the beta and for being a generally awesome person!
> 
> Also, I'm a writer, not a doctor.

Jim should have paid more attention during his first aid classes. The thought had been niggling at him all through the three years at the Academy. But he'd just always figured that when the time came that he would need the information, he'd have Bones right there by his side anyway and wouldn't have to worry.

He was right on one count - Bones _is_ here. But Jim is definitely worried. No, scratch that. Jim is scared shitless, so terrified he doesn't even know how to breathe. His gut is full of sharp shards of ice, his fingers are numb, his _brain_ is numb.

Bones is bleeding out and it's all Jim's fault.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. It was supposed to be an easy mission, just a meeting with some colony leaders, making sure everything was fine and dandy. It was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be _boring_, which was exactly why Jim had asked Bones to come with him. If Jim has to be bored, he'd rather be bored with Bones than with Spock. Being bored with Bones is _fun_, while being bored with Spock is... well, _boring_.

And Bones said yes. He grumbled about how he's a doctor and not a diplomat and how he's got a million more important things to do, but he said yes. Of _course_ he said yes. If there's one thing Jim has learned from their friendship it is that Bones will always, always say yes. All Jim has to do is ask.

He can't decide if it's cool or scary, the kind of power he has over Bones. It's far too easy to abuse, the knowledge that all he has to do is smile and say pretty please and Bones just won't be able to say no. Bones has never been able to say no.

* * *

The first time Jim knocks on Bones' dorm room door it's three o'clock in the morning. It's not unusual for him to be up this late, but it is kinda unusual for him to be up this late and be _sober_. He's not even sure what he's doing here. It's been an hour since he stormed out of his own dorm because he didn't want to get kicked out of Starfleet after five days for murdering his roomie. He'd drifted around for a while, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now, where the hell he's supposed to stay for the rest of the night. Jim hadn't really had time to make any friends yet. There was that Orion girl he'd met the first day of course, but it was the middle of the night and he had an early lecture and he just wanted to _sleep_...

That's when he'd remembered the crazy looking guy from the shuttle. He'd shared his booze and he'd been fun to talk to in a slightly manic way. McCoy, that was it. Leonard McCoy. Well, what could it hurt?

So here he is, waking up some random guy at stupid o'clock in the morning, fully expecting to be laughed away. He can just hope that if he looks pathetic enough, McCoy will take pity on him. But hey, they're practically buddies, right? Sharing bourbon and phobias and tales of drunken shenanigans has to count for something.

The door opens and Jim adopts the lost puppy-dog expression he's perfected over the past few years. Girls love the lost puppy-dog expression. He's not so sure about doctors at least five years his senior, but what the hell.

McCoy looks like he was just forced out of bed at three o'clock in the morning, stubbly and dishevelled, and he's blinking owlishly against the bright light of the hallway. "Whazzit?" he mutters, eyes at half-mast.

Jim grins as if this is perfectly normal behaviour. "Hey! I will kill my holier-than-thou asshole roomie if I have to spend another minute with him. You got a spare bed or something?"

McCoy blinks sleepily for a moment. Then he yawns and sighs and rolls his eyes and steps aside to let Jim in.

It turns out that McCoy does have a spare bed. Apparently _his_ roommate stormed out two days ago and hasn't been seen since. Jim starts to say something about the irony of that, but McCoy has already collapsed back into his own bed and fallen asleep again. Jim follows soon after, finding the other man's snoring oddly comforting.

They wake up in the morning with surprisingly little awkwardness, crowd each other in the bathroom, and go to breakfast together. Jim does his very best to remember to go to student administration after his lectures to sort out his living situation, but somehow it slips his mind. By the end of the day he realises that he still doesn't have anywhere to stay so he goes to knock on McCoy's door again and McCoy lets him in.

It really shouldn't work. McCoy's a bit of a hermit, while Jim is a people person. McCoy is practically celibate, still too torn up from his divorce to have any interest in dating. Jim needs sex like he needs oxygen, seeing someone new every week. McCoy works hard to get through his classes and Jim breezes through his with very little effort. They both drink a little too much and have too little tact. They should've beaten each other to death within a week.

But they don't. Sometimes Jim wonders what would've happened if McCoy had said no and closed the door that first night. He would've missed out on the best friend he'll ever know, that's for sure.

* * *

"Jim."

"No, no, no, stay down. Bones, stay the fuck down."

Bones just won't listen and the red stain just keeps spreading over his blue uniform shirt. It seems to be everywhere. On the shirt, on the ground, on Jim's hands, oh _definitely_ on Jim's hands. It's welling up between his fingers, warm and sticky, and the smell of it makes him feel sick because it's _Bones'_ blood, Bones' blood that should be _inside_ his body and not seeping into the dirty wooden planks of the floor.

"Jim," Bones gasps again, his voice rough and breathless. "You should... can you... my bag..."

Yes, right, Bones' ever present medkit. How could he forget? Bones brings it with him everywhere, even to what was meant to be an easy away-mission. Jim reaches for the hard plastic case with one hand while keeping pressure on the hole in Bones chest with the other, cursing his own stupidity, his own carelessness.

How was he supposed to know that the colony leaders were planning a coup? How was he supposed to know that holding two starfleet officers hostage were their perfect playing card against the Federation?

_You were supposed to know because you are the Captain._

Weird, how Jim's inner guilty thoughts sound like Spock. He should've brought Spock. Spock would've noticed that something was wrong before it was too late. Spock wouldn't have allowed himself to be distracted. Spock wouldn't have gotten between Jim and a knife either. Except, he probably would, as long as it was logical.

Jim manages to get Bones bag open and roots through the contents one-handed, looking for something, _anything_, to stop the bleeding.

"Field dressing," Bones rasps, reaching out a shaking hand to point them out. Jim grabs one and presses it over the wound, biting his lip when Bones gasps in pain and pales even more.

"Sorry," he says. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry."

"Be sorry later, oh _damnit_, after you've... tape, c'mon Jim, _focus_, will you?"

"Hey, I'm a Starship Captain, not a doctor," Jim snaps, and then almost bursts out laughing, has to struggle hard to keep it from bubbling up though his throat because he can't afford to panic now, not when Bones _needs_ him.

The corner of Bones' mouth twitches into something that's not quite a smile and it gives Jim the resolve he needs to get the bandage in place. He has to force his fingers to behave until the stab wound is neatly covered and then there's the added awkwardness of trying to get the tape around Bones' body. Bones doesn't have the strength to hold himself up and even though there are many situations in which Jim enjoys holding him close, this is not one of them. At least the bleeding seems to be slowing down now that they're not running anymore and Jim prays he can manage to get it stopped. Judging from Bones' colour he can't afford to lose any more blood than he already has.

"There," Jim says, grinning brightly in what he hopes is an encouraging fashion. "All better now, right? You're gonna be just fine."

Bones sees right through him just as usual, grimacing as he shifts slightly to his side. He points at the open medkit again with what appears to be a very heavy arm. "Hyposprays in the... side compartment."

Jim finds the hated things easily. "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to stab one of these into your neck?" he asks, going for a joke because he can't think of any other way to handle this without going crazy.

Bones coughs, a dry, rattling, and extremely worrying sound. "'S your lucky day, kid," he rasps.

"Don't call me 'kid'. I hate it when you call me 'kid'."

"That one," Bones says, completely ignoring him. "Antibiotic. And there should be...a painkiller in there...somewhere." His breathing is all wrong, coming in short gasps and he looks like he needs that painkiller badly.

Jim would have expected to find greater pleasure in this opportunity for revenge for all the time Bones assaulted him with a hypo, but he can't find anything even remotely satisfying about the situation. The only relief is the way a little of the rigid tension in Bones' face drains away and he slumps against the wall when Jim administers the painkiller.

"You next," Bones mutters then. He can barely hold his eyes open.

"What? No, no way!"

"Jim. You're all... scratched up. And there's probably... more bacteria here than... there were in the fridge...back in the d-dorm...damnit." Bones' voice hitches and he starts hacking again, gasping for breath between the coughing spasms.

"Okay, okay, I'll take it," Jim hurries to say, "Just... calm down okay? We're reasonably safe here and we're going to stay put until we get rescued."

"Our communicators... gone," Bones stutters, fighting to breathe and Jim wishes the stubborn bastard would just shut up and lie back and let himself be taken care of. "If they can't lock... on our comm frequencies... they can't... beam us up."

"Spock will find us," Jim says and believes it with every fiber of his being simply because he has to.

Bones gives him a very tired look. "Hypo," he reminds, clearly not having the breath for more than that one word.

"All right, I'm taking it!" Jim presses the hypospray against the base of his own neck and braces himself. It's a complete mystery how medical science still hasn't managed to come up with a hypo that doesn't hurt. Jim gives himself a dose of the antibiotic and then winces and rubs his neck. Bones watches him, as if trying to make sure Jim really did what he was told, but when Jim puts the empty hypo away, his eyes slide shut. He looks exhausted, his face the colour of ash. Jim sits down beside him, trying to find a comfortable position for them both and ends up with his back to the wall and Bones pulled up with his back to Jim's chest because he seems to be breathing a little bit easier when he's upright.

"Okay, we're good," Jim says, trying to convince himself. "Now we just have to wait for Spock to find us."

There's no answer from Bones, other than the frighteningly wheezing sound of his breathing. This is all wrong. It should be the other way around. Jim knows how it works when it's the other way around.

* * *

The first time Jim comes back to their dorm room beaten to shit, he's just beginning to sober up. It's extremely unpleasant since it means that he can now feel exactly how much he hurts. He's pretty sure his nose is broken and a few teeth have been knocked loose. He's also pretty sure that he won't be able to see anything out of his left eye in another couple of hours.

He should've gone to the students' clinic. They're open around the clock and he hasn't yet cemented his reputation as a hopeless brawler so he's reasonably sure he'd be able to get some pity and maybe even a comm number from some cute little nurse.

But instead he goes back to their room, and he wakes up Bones, and he uses the puppy dog look and says please until Bones swears at great length and rolls out of bed to get his medkit.

That's the first time. The next time they're out drinking together when Jim hits on a girl who turns out to already be taken. He comes to with his arm slung over Bones' shoulder, being dragged back to their dorm.

The time after that is mostly a blur, and then it becomes something of a habit, mostly because Jim's reputation is beginning to stick and the clinic has to keep records and Jim gets enough warnings as it is. After the first year, Jim has lost count of how many times Bones has patched him up well enough for most of the bruises to be gone by morning.

"This is the last time Jim, I swear," Bones says as he closes the cuts, hands careful and gentle where his voice isn't. "Next time you do this, I'll leave your sorry ass on the floor."

"I won't do it again, I promise," Jim mumbles around his fat lip.

They know each other well enough by then to recognise the lies.

* * *

Jim wonders where Spock is and why they haven't been rescued yet. They're way overdue for a check-in and the crew on the _Enterprise_ should have realised there's something wrong by now. He thinks back, trying to figure out how long they've been here. The meeting with the councillors lasted for about an hour before everything went to hell. After that they were running and hiding for what, one or two? Far too long. And Jim didn't realise Bones was hurt until they reached this shelter and Bones stated that he was done, that he couldn't go on any longer.

That's when Jim turned around and saw the blood and remembered how Bones had pushed him out of the way of the man with the knife earlier and...

He shakes his head, trying to force the images away. They'll probably haunt his nightmares for weeks.

Spock should have found them by now.

Bones is getting restless, his eyes moving under closed lids. His breathing seems to be even more laboured now and Jim hopes he's just imagining it because he has no idea what to do. Then, Bones eyes open just a sliver and he shifts, raising his hand to look at his... his nails?

"Is this really the right time to worry about your manicure?" Jim asks, reaching out to get Bones to settle down again.

Bones doesn't seem to be listening. "Jim, my lips. Are they...turning blue?"

Jim looks, wishes he could say no but... "Yeah. Yeah, they are.That's bad, isn't it?"

Bones nods jerkily. "Phneumothorax. There's air in my... pleual cavity, keeping the lung from...expanding properly."

"Shit." Jim scrubs a hand over his face. "But you'll be fine, okay? Spock will be here any minute now, we'll have you back in medbay in no time."

"Dizzy. Already suffering... from hypoxia," Bones rasps. "You're going to... have to... do a tube thoracostamy... Remove... the... air... " Then he starts coughing again.

"Do a _what_?" Jim says. Yep, should've paid more attention to the first aid classes.

Bones keeps coughing and coughing and Jim anxiously looks for blood on his lips, relieved when he can't see any. Not that it makes him less worried, but at least it's _something_, right?

"Chest tube," Bones finally manages. "Have to... get the air out... or I'll... go into... respiratory arrest."

And that's when Jim decides that panicking might be a good idea anyway. He wasn't trained for this. No-one in Captain school ever said anything about sticking things into your best friend's chest. Or maybe they did that during one of those first-aid classes he spent flirting with that cute cadet with the freckles.

"I can't," he says. It sounds like his voice belongs to someone else. "I'm sorry, Bones, I'm so sorry, I can't, I don't know how."

"Have to," Bones whispers. His colour is even worse now, his lips practically purple and he looks _(like he's dying)_ really really bad.

_What are you going to tell Joanna?_

Jim breathes in and out twice, slowly, and then reaches for the medkit.

"Okay. Tell me what to do."

* * *

The first time they have sex, they're both a little drunk. Not so drunk that they'll be able to blame it on the alcohol the next morning, but enough to make the way their shoulders brush against each other as they walk back to the dorm feel natural, feel good. It makes Jim want _more_.

They've been roommates for almost two years. Living together, studying together, eating together, so close that it sometimes feels like they're two halves of the same person. Had it been anyone else than Bones, Jim would probably have made a move long ago, but he's been hesitating. His relationships always seem to be over before they even start, and he desperately wants this friendship to last.

Theoretically, it's possible to have a friendship with added benefits, Jim knows. He's just never been able to make it work. In the end, someone always ends up wanting more. He's a little scared that the someone might be him this time.

He doesn't want to think about all the nights he's been lying awake, listening to Bones' soft snoring, wondering what would happen if he was to get out of bed and crawl in beside Bones, touch and kiss and tease and explore, get beneath that gruff exterior and find the warm, passionate man Bones tries so hard to keep hidden.

Jim has always been an explorer, always with that need to test the limits and find out what lies beyond. This is one of the few times he's held back.

But tonight is different for some reason. Bones is loose and relaxed for a change and he's been smiling a lot tonight, that rare honest smile that's open and happy and _beautiful_. His hair is a little mussed and his eyes are bright and it's so good to see him enjoying himself after all the weeks he's spent working himself into the ground.

And Jim _wants_. He wants to draw this moment out forever, wants to make Bones feel good, keep that smile on his face for a little longer.

He probably wouldn't have done it if he'd been completely sober, but he still knows what he's doing. Before the door has closed behind them, Jim backs Bones up against the wall. Fond amusement flashes over Bones' face, he opens his mouth like he's about to say something. Jim reaches out for him, puts a hand on the back of his neck and pulls him close for a kiss.

There's a moment of surprised hesitation, a sudden tenseness to Bones' body against Jim's. Then Bones relaxes and kisses him back, letting his hands slide up to cup Jim's face, calloused fingers warm and strong against his cheeks.

Bones is a good kisser, just like Jim knew he would be. He could do this forever, get lost in the sensation of their tongues sliding together, slow and delicious and _safe_. But he's getting hard against Bones thigh and it's not enough, he still wants more.

Jim goes to his knees, presses his palms against Bones' thighs, feels the warm strong muscle through the fabric of his pants. He notices the bulge between Bones legs and grins to himself, pleased to see that he's not the only one who wants this.

"Jim," Bones says, his voice suddenly very young and uncertain. "We shouldn't do this, it's a bad idea."

He licks his lips, looks up at Bones and says, "I want to. Please."

Time freezes for a moment, tension and want and need so strong in the air that Jim is almost able to smell it. Bones eyes are wide and dark and he swallows hard and Jim knows that he won't say no because Bones never does.

"Yeah, okay."

Jim smiles and leans forward.

It's a bit surprising to find that the friends-with-benefits thing actually seems to work. It doesn't happen often; a few times every month maybe. When Jim hasn't been able to score on a night out and comes back to their room tense and frustrated, in need of release. When Bones looks particularly tired and in need of some cheering up. When they're bored and can't think of anything better to do. It's always good, uncomplicated and easy, no mind-games or similar emotional messes.

But Jim can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop. When has he ever had something that he didn't manage to destroy?

* * *

By the time Spock and Sulu finally come to the rescue, Jim doesn't have energy for anything else than a glare and a growled "What the hell took you so long?"

It's been hours and Bones is blissfully asleep. He used up the last of his energy guiding Jim's fingers, instructing him how to do the tube thing, and that's something Jim never wants to do again in his whole life. It seems to have worked though, because Bones is breathing easier and his lips are close to their normal colour.

Jim's hands haven't quite stopped trembling. He's playing with the thought of letting Bones off the ship at the next starbase, or maybe even send him back to Earth where he'll be _safe_. The idea seems better and better with every second. The _Enterprise_ would be empty and boring, but Jim would rather have Bones alive and well on the other side of the galaxy than dying at Jim's side.

Spock, true to form, raises an eyebrow and says, with that blank expression of his, "Finding your location presented more of a challenge than anticipated, Captain."

"We really did our best," Sulu adds. At least _he_ has the decency to look like he might have been a little worried.

Jim sags back against the wall. He has his arm wrapped around Bones chest, his hand resting just above Bones' heart. He's not sure he'll be able to let go. It's like his whole world revolves around that shallow rise and fall. "Whatever," he mutters, closing his eyes. "Can we go home now?"

"I was just about to suggest it," Spock says. "Four to beam up, Mr Scott. Directly to sickbay, please."

After that, time moves in strange blocks with nothing in between. They are in the shelter and then in sickbay with doctors and nurses fussing over them. Someone gently pulls Bones out of Jim's arms and puts him on a biobed.

The next thing Jim knows, he's standing up, watching Dr M'Benga examine Bones, unable to tear his eyes away from all the dried blood marring the pale skin. He distantly hears himself telling the doctor every detail he can remember from the planet, hoping that it might be helpful for something.

"Did you do this, sir?" M'Benga asks, motioning to the tube sticking out of Bones' side.

"Yeah," Jim mutters. His hands are shaking and he wonders if it has always been this cold in here. "He said he had phneumo-something... air in his chest. Made me put that thing in."

M'Benga nods solemly, running the medical tricorder over Bones' chest. "You probably saved his life, Captain." He sounds like he just witnessed a trained monkey doing some particularly clever trick.

"I had no fucking clue what I was doing," Jim confesses and only realises after the words have left his mouth that it might not have been the best thing for the Captain of the _Enterprise_ to say.

Then a blanket is being wrapped around his shoulders and a pair of undoubtedly Vulcan hands are turning him around. "I believe Nurse Chapel is ready to see to your injuries, Captain," Spock says, efficiently changing the subject.

Jim begins to protest that he's fine, it's nothing serious, that Chapel should concentrate on helping Bones, but Spock is doing that thing where he listens carefully and then completely ignores every word Jim says.

Things get a little vague again after that. Chapel is talking about exhaustion and dehydration and mild shock and the next thing Jim remembers he's waking up with a fuzzy mouth, thinking that Chapel has spent far too much time around Bones and his hypos.

He sits up and finds that someone has undressed him and put him in scrubs while he slept. There's an IV in his hand and it looks like he's had a turn with a dermal regenerator, because the cuts and scratches on his arms are replaced by fresh pink scars.

The lights of the infirmary are dimmed. A glance on the clock on the wall reveals that it's early Gamma shift and that Jim has slept for several hours. He's still tired but he needs to find out what happened while he was out, and he needs to find out if Bones is okay.

Bones has to be okay. Jim can't lose him. That urge to lock him up somewhere, wrap him in cotton and keep him safe, is beginning to feel like an excellent idea.

A quick glance around the area reveals one more occupied bed, close to the nurses' station. Bones is sleeping, still too pale for comfort. Jim can see his chest moving with slow steady breaths, but it's not enough, he has to make _sure_.

Jim slides out of bed. The half-empty IV-bag is attached to the bed rather than a stand, so he'll either have to carry it with him or remove the port from his hand. He always hated the damn things anyway so he grabs the port and winces as it slides out of the vein, leaving a round drop of blood in its wake.

His legs are unsteady and he stays close to the wall as he makes his way over to Bones' bed, just in case he should suddenly find himself in need of the support, but he reaches his friend's side without incident. There's a chair next to the bed and Jim gratefully sits down.

Bones is sleeping deeply. He has a nasal cannula giving him additional oxygen, and he's very pale, but his colour is a lot better than it was down on the planet, and he's breathing normally. Jim puts his hand over Bones' chest, feels the gentle rise and fall, and his sight is blurring with relief as moisture begins to well up in his eyes.

Then he hears footsteps behind him and quickly wipes the tears away. He turns around and finds Nurse Chapel standing there, watching him with that special look of exasperation that only people of the medical profession seem to be able to project. Chapel looks tired and she's wearing a knitted cardigan over her uniform.

"Captain," she says, and it's amazing how much disapproval she can work into that one word. "You have a call button for a reason."

Jim looks back to his own bed, the rumpled sheets and discarded IV-line and gives her a sheepish grin. "Yeah, sorry about that. I just had to..." he motions to Bones' still form. "Is he..?"

Chapel leans down to brush a lock of hair away from Bones' forehead. "We had to take him into surgery to repair some internal bleeding. He's still sleeping off the anesthesia so he'll be out for a while yet."

"But he's going to be all right?"

"He'll be back to his usual charming self in no time," Chapel says, smiling now. "Why don't you get some more rest, Captain? You'll probably be released in the morning."

Jim looks back at his own abandoned bed, measures the distance between it and Bones'. It's too far, seems like miles and miles, and he wouldn't be able to feel Bones' breathing. "I'd really like to stay with him," he says.

The puppy-dog look doesn't usually work all that well with Chapel, but this time her expression softens a little. "I'll make you a deal. You can sit with him for a while if you let me put your IV back in. You're still slightly dehydrated and you have the beginning of an infection that we'd like to combat before it takes hold."

"Okay," Jim hurries to agree. Right now he'd accept pretty much anything as long as he's allowed to stay with Bones.

Chapel goes to fetch an IV-stand and then quickly and efficiently re-inserts the port in Jim's hand and makes sure the drip flows unhindered. When she's done, she smoothes out Bones' sheets and then turns to Jim. "I'll be in my office if you need me," she says. There's a brief moment of hesitation and then, "You did really well down there, Captain. He wouldn't have survived without your help."

_He wouldn't be hurt at all if it hadn't been for me,_ Jim thinks, but he smiles and nods at Chapel and says, "Thank you, Christine."

She goes back to her office and Jim settles down in the chair, takes Bones' hand in his and wonders how he's supposed to fix this mess. He's been taking Bones for granted for far too long, so long that he doesn't even know how to manage without the cantankerous bastard anymore. But if that is what it takes to keep Bones safe, Jim will have to learn to. This can never ever happen again.

* * *

The first time Jim doesn't ask is when the 'Fleet is departing for Vulcan. He doesn't ask because he knows he doesn't have to. All he has to do is put up a brave face of badly concealed disappointment and shake Bones' hand and wish him luck. That's all it takes to get Bones to smuggle him aboard the _Enterprise_. Jim is fairly sure Bones sees right through his manipulative ass or he might've come up with a less unpleasant way to get him on the ship.

Afterwards, when the adrenaline has faded and Jim is promoted, and the loss of Vulcan, the loss of all those lives, is beginning to sink in, Jim _does_ ask. It feels like the right thing to do, like he _has_ to.

Bones is the first crewmember Jim picks for the mission. Well, he is in theory, because Scotty already seems to have bonded with the warp drive and Sulu and Chekov approached Jim right after the promotion ceremony, asking to be part of his crew. He hopes he'll be able to convince Uhura and he's looking forward to waiting out Spock to see who caves first, but Bones is right on top of his list of key personnel.

"Will you be my CMO?" he asks, and for the first time, he's actually a little nervous. He's 99% sure Bones will say yes, but there is also that one percent possibility that he'll say no, and even that little risk is frightening.

Bones rolls his eyes. "Let me think, do I want to spend the next five years in a tin can surrounded by the vacum of space, seeking out new life and civilisations and diseases and new horrible ways to die?" He sighs. "Sure, why not. It's not like there's anyone else I'd trust with the job of keeping you and your Messiah complex alive."

It turns out Bones already has all his things packed.

* * *

Bones wakes up while Jim's in the shower. Jim finds that very annoying. He's been dozing in the chair by Bones' bed for the better part of the night and of course the moment Jim turns his back is the moment the contrary son of a bitch choses to open those beautiful hazels.

When Jim comes back to sickbay with damp hair and a fresh uniform, Bones is sitting up in bed, picking at the breakfast tray in his lap. He looks weary and there are dark rings like bruises underneath his eyes, but he looks light-years better than yesterday and Jim has to take a moment and duck behind a privacy screen to compose himself before going to see his friend.

Bones is suspiciously eyeing his bowl of oatmeal when Jim sits down beside the bed. "Does this look like food to you?" he asks. Then he studies Jim a little closer. "Have you slept at all?"

"Sure I have," Jim says. Technically, he's not lying, he _did_ sleep last night. There are blanks in his memory that proves it.

"Let me rephrase that. Have you gotten any sleep that was not under sedation or sitting up in that chair?"

Jim leans back in said chair, sighing deeply. "I think I liked you better when you were unconscious. You were a lot more quiet then. And could you be a little more worried about yourself? You were the one who almost _died_ yesterday."

"And now I'm on the mend and you look like seven miles of bad road. Christine told me what happened, Jim. You were in pretty bad shape yourself."

It should be a relief to see Bones up and bitching like usual, but it just makes Jim angry. Only a few hours clear of deaths' door and here's he's worrying about _Jim_.

"I'm fine," Jim mutters and reaches out to steal a piece of toast from Bones' tray.

"You don't look fine, kiddo. And go get your own breakfast, that's mine."

"You weren't eating it." Jim swallows, wincing at the sullen sound of his own voice. He didn't come here to start an argument, he came to apologise and try to make amends. "I'm sorry about what happened."

"Sorry for what?" Bones looks completely baffled, unconsciously rubbing the spot where the chest tube was. "Performing a medical procedure you're not trained for to save my life?"

"For taking you with me down there. I never should've done that, I should've..."

"Damnit, Jim, it's not like you threatened me with a phaser. I could've said no."

"But you didn't!" Jim hears his voice rising to an almost shout. "You _never_ say no, Bones."

"Sure I do. I'm saying no right now for example," Bones scowls and bats Jim's fingers away from the tray. "Don't touch my breakfast, you little brat."

"I'm not talking about _toast_, Bones. I'm talking about the important things. You never wanted to be in space in the first place and you're only here because I asked you to. You wouldn't have been down on that planet if I hadn't asked you to, and it almost got you _killed_, you could..."

"Jim," Bones interrupts.

"...be back on Earth right now doing research or teaching or something you actually _want_ to do instead of..."

"Jim, if you don't shut up right now I will..."

"...risking your life for..."

"... get out of this bed and do it for you, so help me..."

"Gentlemen!"

They both turn their heads to meet the glare of a fuming nurse. "If you can't keep it down, Captain Kirk will have to leave. There are sick people here who needs their rest."

"Of course." Bones nods. "My apologies, Jill. The Captain will behave."

Jim gets ready to protest that he wasn't the only one being loud, thank you very much, but Bones' dark look tells him what a bad idea that would be, and he don't really want to be thrown out of sickbay so he keeps his mouth shut.

The moment Nurse Jill has turned her back again, Bones begins to talk, his voice low and intense, like a glowing ember. "Jim, I will only say this once and if you ever bring it up again I'll blame painkillers and massive thoracic trauma. If you want to ship me back to Earth, you'll have to knock me out and tie me up in a sack. And the moment you let me out of sight, I'd gnaw my way out and come back." Jim opens his mouth to protest again, but Bones raises a hand, silencing him. "No, shut up you moron. I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. I'm right where I _want_ to be. I'll make sure to let you know the moment that changes, but I don't see it happening any time soon."

"Bones..." Jim begins, but is immediately interrupted again.

"You need to do something about that inflated ego of yours, Jim. The world doesn't revolve around you, damnit! Pull that curtain shut."

"What?"

Bones looks at him like he's simple. It's possible that some more sleep might have been a good idea after all.

"The curtain." Bones points at the privacy curtain around the bed. "Pull. It. Shut. It shouldn't be too difficult, even for you."

"Um. Okay?" Jim gets to his feet and does what Bones asks, ignoring the curious looks from the nurses. "

"Now you come here." Bones waves him closer and when he's standing next to the bed, Bones takes a firm hold of Jim's arm and pulls him down so they're face to face.

"Bones?" Jim feels like he just lost control of the entire situation and wonders when that happened. He came here with a plan but now he can't seem to remember it.

"Don't try to tell me it doesn't go both ways," Bones says and then drags him down for a kiss. They both have morning mouth and Bones tastes like hospital and Jim is about two inches away from toppling over and landing in the middle of Bones' breakfast tray, and it's _perfect_.

As far as Jim can remember, this is their first kiss that doesn't immediately lead to sex. He rather likes it, would like to have a lot more of them, and isn't _that_ a bit of a revelation?

"There, does that explain it?" Bones murmurs against Jim's lips as they finally pull apart to catch their breaths.

Jim nods, finally getting it now. "Yeah." He sits down on the edge of the bed and leans in for another kiss. "Yeah, me too."

\- fin –


End file.
